Nothing in her trembled?
Lie.
I saw her chest rise too fast. I saw her breath hitch the moment I got close. I saw her fingers grip the dresser so hard her knuckles went white.
I saw it all.
And still I walked out.
Because that was what I had to do.
I had to keep control.
I had to prove—to myself most of all—that Valentina had no power over me anymore.
Except…
she did.
She always would.
Because she was the mother of my daughter.
And there was no undoing that. Ever.
I spent nearly an hour in my office pretending I could think about anything else.
I failed.
Eventually, I gave up and headed back toward my bedroom, determined to end this night and stop letting her take up space inside my head.
But when I reached my door—hand on the cold handle—something stopped me.
I heard it.
Low. Broken. Real.
A sound I shouldn’t have heard. A sound I never imagined I’d hear again.
Valentina was crying.
My entire body went rigid.
I turned without thinking and walked straight to her door.
I stopped there with my fists clenched, breath tight, my chest compressed by something heavy I couldn’t name.
She was crying quietly, trying desperately not to be heard.
But I heard her.
I heard every shaky breath, every stifled sob that slipped through the wood and landed inside me like a blow.
And hearing that—hearing Valentina fall apart like that—touched a part of me I’d sworn had died years ago.
Without thinking, I leaned my forehead against the cold wood and closed my eyes.
My hand rose.
